Dancewear
by Zion Angel
Summary: Tony decides to give Pepper a little souvenir from the Expo. -- T/P, IM2 spoilers


Title: Dancewear

Author: ZionAngel

Rating: PG-13

Length: 794 words

Summary: Tony decides to give Pepper a little souvenir from the Expo.

AN: Hanging out with Lady_S is a very dangerous thing. She keeps vicious plot bunnies in her purse! You never know when she'll unleash one on you!

WARNING: SPOILERIFIC SPOILING SPOILERS OF SPOIL FOR IRON MAN 2!!!

Tony quietly peeks his head around the corner as he comes up from the garage, swinging the bag in his hand. Pepper – out of control gorgeous Pepper – is sitting on the couch, long, lanky legs curled up under her, reading some official-looking document. He grins, and pauses there at the top of the stairs, admiring every little detail and nuance of her.

"Just gonna stand there, or you gonna come over and keep me company?" She never even looks up as she speaks.

His grin widens. "Actually, I'm kinda enjoying ogling you now that I'm actually allowed to do it."

"Yeah, you're allowed to give me a smooch now, too. Wouldn't that be more fun?"

"Hm," he murmurs, pushing away from the wall and moving forward. "Well now that you mention it, that lovely pink lipstick of yours is looking entirely too perfect. Be much sexier if it was a little smudged and had that post-roll-in-the-sheets look." She pulls him down just as he reaches her, and seals her soft lips over his. He lands beside her on the sofa, opening his mouth and letting his tongue venture out to meet hers. She sucks on it gently, just enough to drive him the tiniest bit mad before she pulls away.

He stares at her a little, dazed. "What?"

She smiles, and the light in her eyes stirs something cheesy and clichéd and wonderful within him.

"What's in the bag?"

He blinks, and looks down at the white paper sac he brought in. He grins. "Just a little something for you."

"You know, Tony, you're not dying anymore." She strokes the side of his neck absently. "You don't have to keep buying me things like there's some rush."

"I'm not rushing, just trying to get in to the rhythm of it all. And besides, I like giving you stuff, what's the point of being a billionaire if you can't give your girlfriend stuff?"

"You're not the only one in this relationship with money, Tony."

"Okay, so next time you can buy me the gift, but today it's my turn."

She laughs quietly and takes the bag, shaking her head. He sighs at the sight, and loves that he doesn't have to hide it.

"It's kinda for both of us, actually," he amends as she pulls a few layers of tissue paper out of the bag. She laughs again, and pulls out the last sheet before peering into the bag.

The change in her expression occurs so suddenly that he can't immediately process its meaning. As her narrowed eyes turn up to him, he realizes that it isn't what you'd call a happy expression.

"Is this one of the costumes from those dancers?"

"From the Expo, the Ironettes, yeah. Like it?"

She reaches into the bag and pulls out the shiny red booty shorts, dangling them from the tip of one finger. "Is this a joke?"

"No, of course not." He pulls back an inch or two. "What, you don't like it?"

"You gave this to me seriously expecting that I would wear it?"

"Well, I –"

"And what?" she snipes, pulling out the red and gold crop top. "Do some little strip tease for you?"

"No, I was just thinking –"

"What? What precisely were you thinking?" His mind finally begins to derive some meaning from her tone and expression. It's not exactly furious, so to speak, there's definitely a note of their friendly banter to it, but he can also tell she's royally _pissed_.

"Just – we could have a little fun, and –" She keeps glaring at him, entirely unamused. "Oh, come on, Pep, this isn't just a bad gift – really, I've done worse presents than that – the strawberries, you remember the… I mean at least this one won't make you all puffy and give you hives, and –"

"I think I would rather have the strawberries."

"But you'd probably be wearing it all of thirty seconds anyway, and it would just be a kinky thing and I thought it would be fun –"

A flash of red lycra hits him in the face. "Fine, you wear it." By the time he clears the fabric from his face, she's up and walking away, files in hand. "Have fun." And just like that, she's gone.

He stares dumbly at the empty doorway, wondering where specifically he went wrong.

"Huh," he finally mutters. "Did not anticipate that reaction."

Well, maybe she's right about the whole rushing thing. Took him a while to get to know her as a friend instead of just an assistant, back in those early years. Looks like getting to know her as a lover is gonna be a whole new ballgame, too.

Then he just falls backwards onto the couch, laughing hysterically.


End file.
